


Just Like Cinderella

by twitch



Category: Metallica
Genre: Crossdressing, Ficmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitch/pseuds/twitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he had thought to himself three months ago that it was lucky to fit into girl's clothing he would have kicked himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like Cinderella

**Author's Note:**

> After much consideration I've posted this older story of mine, written for a Ficmas exchange back in 2012. Only endeavour into Metallica and may be my only endeavour.

It started out innocently. Sharing a place was the logical thing to do from a financial standpoint and with two bedrooms it made sense that two of them would have to share each room. There was a silent agreement that they would each have to make sacrifices in the sharing of space. Lars and James did their own part when it came to each other. He did the same for Cliff as did Cliff for him. 

Cliff had come back to the place with a girl, not arm in arm but linked by the joint they shared. While James and Lars went to crash in their room Kirk settled in on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The stench coming up from the cushions was far from pleasant and one of them was dangerous in that the button had snapped off long ago, leaving a broken wire to scratch at clothes or skin if one wasn’t careful. Squeaky bedsprings more active than usual were the only indication of what was happening in the bedroom. It wasn’t enough to keep him awake, eventually drifting into a smelly and awkward sleep. When he woke up he didn’t hear anything. Deciding it was safe to go to bed he crept to the door, careful not to push it past the point that weary hinges would signal his arrival. 

He could feel eyes drifting towards him. Respect kept his gaze away from the bed but out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the girl straddling the sleeping Cliff. His foot was already twisted in the direction of his own bed but it didn’t take much effort to turn it around, twisting him to the door, allowing him to slip through the gap and close the door.

Waking up, knowing that he did smell as bad as the couch he slept on, Kirk blinked under the rays of the sun, bright despite the dirty windows they came in through. Stretching told him how unwise it had been to sleep the whole night there but he didn’t want to disturb their second round. Knowing that his clean clothes, or at least cleaner clothes, were in the room he entered, forgetting to be quiet. If he had to be awake then he’d make them be awake too.

Cliff slept but she was dressing, pulling on her jeans. He returned her smile, walking past his bed to the pile of clothes that he knew were the less potent of the two. He stopped when he saw something black atop his messed up blankets. “Ahh, isn’t this. . .” He didn’t dare touch it, though he waggled a finger at the tiny fabric. 

“It’s yours,” she assured him, buttoning her jeans into place. “I didn’t expect you to leave when you came in but you did, and I appreciated it. Consider it a token of affection.”

“Hey – I – I wasn’t the one you were showing affection to,” Kirk argued, trying to keep his composure but flustered all the same, even his hand flapping towards Cliff’s rumpled form. 

“Appreciation then.” Stepping over to him, paying no heed to the smell he was sure would scare off little children, she kissed his cheek, picking up her underwear from the blankets to place it in his hand, curling his fingers around it. “And it’s yours, not his.” 

He never did think of giving it to Cliff. If she had given the gift to Cliff herself that would have been one thing but it was a whole lot of wrong when he was giving girls’ underwear to him. His intention had been to throw it out but first he had to throw it across his bed to the floor when Cliff snapped up into a sitting position, James yelling from the kitchen, apparently startled by the girl’s appearance and disappearance, also startling him.

The next day he had forgotten about them. It took five more days and the cleaner pile of clothes to cross over. Picking up his laundry grudgingly, heaving them into a garbage bag for lack of a laundry basket, he had picked up the underwear in the process. He didn’t find them until he was at the Laundromat, pulling the stuff out one by one until he had them hanging from his hand. The girl at the next machine, who had been watching him from over her book, eyed the underwear as he pulled them out from an endless pile of men’s only clothing.

He dropped the underwear into the pile and shoved it all into the machine, dumping the rest of the contents inside before pushing coins in.

The cycle finished after she left. The section with the dryers was luckily empty which left him to study the wet fabric in his hands, everything else inside and waiting. It wasn’t frilly or silky as he expected girl’s underwear to be. He couldn’t say for sure but he figured that when dry it would feel soft. 

Cliff was practising when he returned, not bothering to look up when he went back to his room. Privacy guaranteed he pulled the underwear out first. It wasn’t warm like it had been when he first pulled it out of the dryer but it was soft, quite delicate against his fingers.

He placed it underneath all of his clothing, hidden from the world but in a location that he wouldn’t forget. He didn’t forget the underwear at all, even going as far as putting them on one night before a concert. His argument had been that he was out of underwear and the black underwear did have its own purpose. 

It was snug and shifted in odd ways. For the first little while it felt weird but as the night dragged on the slide of fabric became smooth, not just for the softness but also the way it moved, slow and catching his balls. He didn’t want to admit it but it felt good, a caress.

Girls had come and gone, in and out of each bedroom, but Kirk didn’t pay them much mind. It wasn’t hard when they weren’t coming to his bed. It would have been one hell of an awkward situation since he had taken to wearing the panties to each concert they did. Explaining that wardrobe choice to a girl would’ve been a mood killer had they not run straight out the door. He still got to look at the girls with a sideways glance, taking them in as they moved with Cliff, not entirely hidden by blankets. 

A glimpse was all he needed, a half-second thought before pulling his shirt off, dropping it to the floor. It wasn’t until he looked down, surprised to see something white peeking out from under it, that he toed his shirt enough to the side to find a bra underneath it. 

Another thought had him absently kick bra and shirt under his bed. 

He kept his eyes shut despite the curse he heard a couple of hours later, not Cliff’s voice but hers. No doubt she couldn’t find her bra. Tongue between molars kept him from smiling or laughing when that curse was repeated a couple minutes later. The next thing he heard was the door hinges protesting when she left the bedroom.

He waited to have the apartment all to himself. That little miracle happened five days later. He was no girl, certainly, but he knew that white and black wasn’t a winning combination. Pickers couldn’t be choosers though and he wasn’t about to go bra shopping without knowing anything about what the numbers and letters meant. He did know that it wasn’t a perfect fit and not just for the absence of breasts. Even on the third set of hooks the band was loose. 

The bra was silky, unlike the underwear. He smoothed fingers over the front, snorting when he didn’t have anything to cup. Maybe he could use his socks. No, that’s what he found out some of the guys from high school did to make themselves look more endowed. If he remembered correctly, from what those same guys talked about, the girls used Kleenex. He’d need a whole box to get the job done for himself. 

He dove into bed barely in time when a door slammed open, only a second before Cliff got inside their room.

“Weren’t you awake an hour ago?” Cliff asked, looking suspiciously over to him, dropping his jacket to his bed.

Kirk stretched his face into a yawn, making an effort to think. “Briefly.”

“Get up man.” He got denim to his face when he didn’t move. He didn’t get up until Cliff went back into the other room, announcing he was still sleeping to Lars and James.

Despite the lack of opportunities to try on the ensemble for a second time he made a point of brushing his fingers over the bra and underwear in the drawer before pulling out his clothes for each day. If Cliff wondered why he was making a point of keeping his side of the room more tidy he hadn’t asked it aloud. Everything else remained dishevelled, from the bed and the shelves that they shared. It was only the clothes that he put away. Soon he was able to add another bra to the collection, a black one that someone had left behind in a washing machine. And, to his luck, when he did try it on, it fit him better than the white one. 

If he had thought to himself three months ago that it was lucky to fit into girl’s clothing he would have kicked himself. Now he was wondering how he’d get his hands on a shirt, if he ever decided what kind of a shirt he wanted. Girls had a lot more options to choose from after all. He tried to make his decision while Cliff and the variety of girls he brought home slept, picking up shirts and looking them over with an analytical mind. He was shocked. Tank tops, tube tops, blouses, even corsets. The tee shirts he thought were simple enough were complicated by varying necklines. He was no closer to making a decision when one night he was startled out of his thoughts by a pressing gaze.

Cliff regarding him silently nearly had him clenching his fingers in the tank top but instead he dropped it, hoping he didn’t look as guilty as he felt. “Just returning it, found it on my side,” Kirk explained before scrambling back to his bed. 

He didn’t go back to collecting clothes from Cliff’s side of the room, even for studying purposes, afraid of getting caught again. More often he spent his sleeping hours considering his options. When dreams didn’t cooperate he would watch the crowds at the local bars and before and after their gigs, trying to decide what would be viable options. He wanted his outfit to be authentic to his personality. 

That eagerness led him to be more brazen than he should’ve been in public. They’d already assembled everything for a concert though he still had to tune his guitar. No one else was on stage and there were only a few stragglers on the floor, circling the bar rather than the stage, yet there was a tee shirt left on an amplifier. It wasn’t one of theirs and the self-made low scoop cut at the neck suggested it was a girl’s. Without anyone around to claim it or scold him he half-tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans, resembling a bandana for anyone who might only give him a brief look. He later stuffed it into his guitar case when they were done. 

Cliff was in the bathroom when he hurried to put it on over the bra. He didn’t have long to admire it but he loved how the grey top offered a glimpse of the bra underneath. 

He was still breathing hard when in bed, images of grey and black fluttering over tanned skin.

“Are you okay over there?” 

Damnit. A glance to the other bed brought Cliff into focus, his head turned so he was looking directly at him. “Yeah,” he gasped, cringing when he heard how breathless he was. “It’s. . . you know, adrenaline.”

The bedsheets flapped and tossed noisily while Cliff made himself comfortable. “You need to find yourself a girl.”

Kirk twisted his face into his pillow, smothering his giggle. The truth was awfully close to what he suggested.

Fortune had dropped the shirt into his hands but he resigned himself to the fact that he was likely to only be a three-piece act. His quick hands and a generous girl had bestowed him with underwear and bra but outside of going out and buying a skirt or a pair of jeans he wasn’t going to find himself tripping over a pair on the sidewalk. His money was of better use buying equipment, beer and food. From time to time he would put on the shirt and bra but the underwear was his constant companion at concerts. He was extra cautious to not put himself in any situation where he might get caught while wearing them. Otherwise they were safely stored in his dresser.

“I got a good deal,” Cliff announced, not too loudly to wake up the occupants of the next room. It was early morning, far earlier than they usually participated in, but Cliff made the exception when he found out the night before he could get a larger portion of marijuana for a special price. He was already half-awake, never falling back to sleep after Cliff left the house forty minutes ago. He buried his face into his sheets, his brain awake despite the fact his body stayed stubbornly dormant. Maybe he could trick himself into falling back asleep if he stayed completely motionless. Cliff was milling around the room, doing what, Kirk couldn’t see, but it didn’t seem to hinder his mind from quieting back down. 

“What – the – hell?” 

Cliff’s voice wasn’t loud, expressing his confusion in quiet wonder, but it was enough to wake him again. Huffing he sat up, blankets falling to his waist. He clenched his fingers into them when he realised Cliff was in front of the dresser, the last drawer he wanted him to have open opened. “What are you doing?” Kirk found himself asking, not expecting himself to be able to speak in the first place. 

“My stash box is full so I was going to store the new stuff in here,” Cliff explained, his gaze still locked on the contents in the drawer. He kept a variety of things in his drawer but apparently Cliff had the same desire to keep things hidden and dug underneath shirts and jeans, discovering his own stash. “What are these, trophies?”Cliff turned around so the bra he held was between them. Kirk swallowed thickly, shame burning his cheeks and killing his defences. A grin slowly pulled at Cliff’s mouth. “No, that’s impossible. I know! You’re playing Cinderella, waiting for the girl that will fit into these!”

He didn’t have a voice now, couldn’t move to pull the bra out of Cliff’s hand. Rigid on his bed, breath caught in his chest, the silence stretched on between them until Cliff lowered his hand. “These are from girls, right?” Kirk managed to nod, a barely visible drop of his chin. Despite the fear roiling through his stomach he didn’t look away. He needed to know when he had to make a run for it, depending on what Cliff did next. Cliff looked at the bra then made to turn back to the drawer only to shake his head. “How did you get them? Why do you have them?”

The words he wanted to say would only get him worst words, not questions but orders to get out of the house and band. Struggling for any excuse to save face Kirk whispered. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If it didn’t matter you wouldn’t have kept them.” Cliff didn’t look or sound angry but he was persistent, moving to the bed to sit beside him. “Why did you keep them?”

“They’re trophies, okay?” They weren’t and Cliff knew that. There had never been any nights that Cliff spent out on the couch. He could argue that he and his girls went elsewhere but they both knew better. Kirk got up and left the bedroom, going straight to the washroom to splash cold water on his face, looking into the chipped mirror, his face hot and eyes red with the need to cry.

He returned to an empty room. The bra remained on his bed, a reminder of Cliff’s discovery. He tossed it to the other side of the room before picking up the closest book, an attempt to try and forget what had happened. That lasted for all of five minutes before he left the house too, no destination in mind, only wanting to avoid the house for as long as he could. 

The lack of a show meant that he didn’t get back until nightfall. Fear kept hunger away though his throat had been in a constant state of parched from that morning. He went straight for the fridge, pulling out a beer and downing it in less than a minute. Grabbing a second one he wandered over to the couch, dropping onto it and staring mindlessly out the window.

He didn’t budge when a hand squeezed his shoulder. “I need to talk to you in the room.” 

“What about?” Kirk lifted the beer to his mouth, already half empty, taking another long pull.

“I need a favour from you,” Cliff said, pushing to get him to stand. 

Kirk snorted, getting onto his feet but going in the opposite direction. “If you need me to leave the band there’s no need for me to go to the bedroom.” 

“That’s not what I want.” Steering him back towards the bedroom Cliff opened the door with his free hand, letting him enter in front of him.

“Then what is it?” Sighing and shrugging out from under his hand, Kirk crossed his arms, levelling him with an impatient look. He watched Cliff go to his bed to pick up something. It wasn’t until he was standing in front of him, the item suspended from his grip that Kirk gaped, pouting and knocking it to the floor. “I’m not wearing a dress.”

“Try it on.” Picking it from the floor Cliff hung onto it, the corner of his mouth curving up as he gestured to the clothes he wore. “Those need to come off first though.”

“Why should I?” he challenged, his stance unchanging. 

“Call it a guess.” Kirk pushed his lip out further when Cliff pulled at his shirt, tweaking the fabric over his chest out. “And because I’m being nice?” Cliff offered him a smile, not quite sincere since the cheeky glint was too visible.

“That’s questionable.” If relenting to Cliff’s request meant he would get over with this sooner he would do it. Putting his beer on the top shelf he pulled the shirt off. Kirk reached for the dress but Cliff stopped him short with a soft tsk and moving behind him. “What now?” Kirk asked with a roll of his eyes.

“This goes on first.” Cliff’s voice was low, close to his ear, explained when he pulled something up his arm. Kirk looked down, biting his tongue when he saw the black strap coming up and adjusted to fit his shoulder. The other strap came up and Cliff hooked the bra together. “I’ll be nice and let you put the dress on now.”

Kirk took the dress that Cliff draped over his arm. It didn’t look particularly fancy despite the vivid red colour. Once he had it unfolded and on he realised there was black and gold embroidery along the hems, at the neckline, the edge of the shoulders and the skirt which hit mid-thigh. Apparently Cliff didn’t have high standards, going to the closest vintage shop for some ‘60s throwback. He righted his head up when Cliff stepped around to face him again. “So, this is it?” Kirk asked, hopeful but not reassured. 

His lack of reassurance wasn’t unfounded, Cliff gesturing out with his hand. At first he thought he was getting ridiculed but he was quickly corrected. “Now you can take your jeans off and put on the proper underwear.”

“What?” Expression falling, he twisted his lips, barely catching sight of the underwear that Cliff thrust out to him. “Is this really necessary?”

“But you like wearing this.” Cliff didn’t wait for him to take the underwear, instead brushing it against his fingertips. Kirk couldn’t hold back a shiver, starting from his fingers and working up his arm. “It’ll make the outfit complete, everything will match.” 

He let Cliff hold onto the underwear, his hands needed to undo his jeans. It was tricky to do without lifting the skirt up high enough but he managed to unfasten button and zipper. Pushing jeans and underwear down, stepping out of them before deciding to toe off his socks as well, he took the underwear and pulled them on. “There, complete. Now will you take a picture to landmark this embarrassing moment forever and let me redress?”

“Relax a little.” The pointed look he gave Cliff made him chuckle, not helping him to settle down at all. Having sympathy on him Cliff rubbed his arm, looking him over and smiling in approval. “I knew you’d look good in that.”

“You think I’m going to wear this on stage?” Kirk asked, arching an eyebrow up. 

“I expect you to wear this for me.” 

His second eyebrow went up. He regarded him quietly, frustration not quite ebbing away but wonder joining the currents. “So. . . you like this?” Kirk looked down at himself, unable to believe that his ensemble, dress and all, was any bit attractive.

“I spent my own money getting you a dress,” Cliff commented, gaze raking over the outfit before settling back on his face. Kirk didn’t know what was more unsettling, wearing a dress before his friend or the openly admiring gaze Cliff was giving him. “What do you think?”

The dress floated around his thighs, fabric loose enough at his hips to suggest there could be curves underneath. Holding in his breath he looked back up, doubt cast over his face. “Yeah?” 

He believed Cliff when he kissed him, slightly chapped lips against his own. He started to wonder about underlying intentions in buying the dress when his hand came up to his cheek, holding him in place and gently coaxing for lips to part together. 

“Really good,” Cliff added, not that he needed the reassurance now, being pulled towards his bed.

Surprised as he was by the turn of events he didn’t let Cliff lead him the whole way, pushing him to sit on the edge of his bed before lowering himself into his lap. He didn’t touch the dress but pulled Cliff’s shirt off before kissing him again, smoothing hands over slim shoulders and arms, Cliff’s hands kneading firmly at his shoulders and back. He couldn’t imagine that Cliff handled the girls he brought to bed as hard he did to him, not that his flinches were from pain. Heat and arousal washed through him, snapping and catching his breath when teeth nipped at his neck.

Eyes wide on Cliff, hooded not at the moment, he quirked his lips up at Cliff squeezing his hips. “I need you to move just a little.” 

Scrambling and repositioning, at first sitting beside Cliff, then moving to centre of the bed when Cliff lied down on his back, Kirk struggled not to laugh, eventually grinning when Cliff took the lead again, pulling him on top of him to straddle his thighs. He sat down on his own accord, grinding slowly when he felt Cliff hard underneath him. He did that a couple of times before undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, pushing them and underwear down far enough so that Cliff could pull his legs free and kick them off to the side. “Good now?” Kirk asked, settling back in, moving to let underwear glide over Cliff’s length. 

“Almost.” His hand came up under the dress, not to remove the underwear but to take advantage of it, cupping his hard cock within the fabric, stretching and sliding it over, making him shiver and move into the grip that wasn’t hard enough. His wiggling was more beneficial to Cliff, still moving over his erection. Drops of liquid beading on both sides of the fabric Kirk moaned, bucking forward and down, never enough to get what he wanted but giving Cliff something to gaze up to, grin widening the longer he watched. “Not so shy now.”

“And you’re not so obnoxious now. . . well, almost.” Cliff’s hand not doing exactly what he wanted was never far from mind, quickly addressed before he lost his nerve.

Cliff laughed, cocking his head on his pillow in admission. “Demanding even.” He did relent, sliding his hand underneath the fabric, squeezing and stroking. He didn’t linger, fingers crooking back and circling his entrance. “This okay?”

“Yeah, do it,” he groaned. He nearly pouted when fingers retreated but seeing that Cliff was grabbing a bottle from under his bed he didn’t dwell on it long. Lifting up to have room to pull off underwear he breathed out roughly at the cold wet touch, almost too harsh until another rough exhale had his body relaxing slightly. Shuddering through the push and pull, stretching and teasing him for what was next, he fumbled for the bottle, wetting his own hand to coat Cliff, dragging his fingers around the ridge, taunting him in kind. Both of them moaning, moving into each other’s hand, he tried to speak. “Good?”

Hands gripping his thighs were his answer. Pulling him to knee step a little further up the bed, then dragging him down to his own hand and the cock he was stroking Kirk sunk down, rocking up on a hitch of breath before seating himself fully. Fingers poised to dig into Cliff’s stomach, his thumbs already pressing red marks to his pelvis, he squeezed his lips together before opening his eyes. “Ready?” Cliff asked, face set in something far from his usual relaxed demeanour, exhilarated but also flushed. 

They started out slowly, neither one a novice. The concept might have been new but the curving and rocking up and down was familiar. Adjusting for different needs didn’t take long before confidence returned along with fervor. He dug his fingers into Cliff, stomach, shoulders and arms, while Cliff squeezed and pulled at his hips and legs, spurring him faster and harder. 

He struggled on top of Cliff, breathless with the way their bodies twisted and rocked together while he attempted to shimmy the dress over and off. “Hey, keep it on,” Cliff insisted, trying to pull it back into place.

“I don’t want to get my pretty new dress dirty,” Kirk explained, sticking his tongue out to Cliff. Laughing together Cliff pulled himself up enough to hook his arm around his shoulders. Rough kisses to match the faster pace, his other hand easily sliding under the loose cup of the bra to grip him tight, they shifted until they were grinding against each other, clinging and gasping when the kisses no longer held for lack of breath. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Nodding and blinking at a particular deep angle Kirk tilted his forehead to Cliff’s, gusting into his ear. “You know I wear that underwear at gigs?”

Nails dug in under his armpit. “Yeah?”

“Feels really good.” Gasping and grinning for another sharp thrust Kirk bit the top of his ear. “Next time I’ll be wearing them I’ll be thinking of this.”

“I so knew it.” 

Kirk would have laughed but Cliff bit his shoulder with another thrust. The shudder that racked through his body at the same time as he twisted up had him digging his fingers into Cliff’s arm, gaping and twisting too. “Shit!”

Hurtling and curling into each other, hands getting each other into positions that brought them closer, it took little time until he came, riding until he felt Cliff become limp too. He cleaned himself as best he could with his hand, adamant in not using his dress for that task either. Cliff reached for his shirt, passing it to him before relaxing against his pillow. “And this is why you should’ve told me up front. We could have done this sooner.”

“With or without the dress?” Kirk asked, flipping onto his side, watching Cliff mischievously.

Two days later, when he regained the bounce in his step, Kirk returned from his shower to find a dress on his bed. Cliff did his best to not watch him but he could tell he was glancing his way from behind his hair, attention not fully on his book.

Gasping in delight, laughter shaking from the inside, Kirk picked up the dress, studying it from top to bottom. “This looks like it might be my size.”


End file.
